After Camelot Fell
by a thousand winds
Summary: The Doctor, Rose, Jack and the Kennedy assassination the second time round. [Not Torchwood compliant at all, written before airing.]


**Title:** After Camelot Fell  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who  
**Notes:** Written for **rhipowered** in the Tenth Doctor ficathon. She requested "Jack Harkness, angst that isn't overpowering and an American historical event". I hope it's all right.

* * *

"Do we have to meet in Dallas?"

"Why, what's wrong with it?"

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably. "Nothing, I suppose. Except that it really is rather clichéd."

"Look, Doctor. I'm riding in on a temporal surfboard, I've got enough problems. I'll remember that date."

"All right, all right."

The face on the screen smirked one last time and flickered out. The Doctor pretended to sigh.

---

"Doctor? Who are you talking to?"

Rose trod carefully down the steps to the console room. She was wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt, possibly the first person in the history of the universe to ever suit it, and her hair was out over her shoulders. She made a V-sign with her fingers as he looked up. "Peace, man!" It was likely that her American accent was even worse than his own. He grinned at her.

"No one," he told her. "Myself." He was, of course, fibbing, but he liked surprises. As long as they were surprises with cake and balloons and whatnot, rather than "oh, look, a gaol cell". An important distinction, that.

"So, when exactly are we going to?" Rose inquired, gripping the lever he told her to grip for once. He blamed her entirely for that time they ended up in the pits on Kando Seven. "You just said the sixties."

"The twenty-second of November, 1963, to be precise." The Doctor waggled his fingers, meditating for a split second before pressing a flashing button.

"Haven't you already been there?"

The Doctor paused in the act of fiddling with the console again. "I'm sorry?"

"I saw a photo." Rose seemed unconcerned, only curious. The Doctor moved round to check the computer, his shoulders loosening.

"Yes, that's why we're going to be careful." He didn't remember seeing Rose that day and he hoped devoutly (though he'd never been a religious man, had he? How could he be) that he wouldn't inadvertently manage to bugger up his own timeline. For one thing, his past incarnation would probably react somewhat badly to Rose, what with the mental state he was in, and not go to twenty-first century London and get his own like normal Time Lords did.

The thought of normal Time Lords was like a bitter pill that he still couldn't quite swallow. He locked it away in a neat little cupboard and backed away from it quickly.

The TARDIS heaved herself into the right place in the space-time continuum with a groan and the Doctor patted her absently. She'd sounded a bit wheezy for a moment there, poor old girl, perhaps he'd better do some meddling with the wiring afterwards. Now, however – he hopped over and flung open the door.

"Superb!" he announced to Rose, who came up from behind and put her arms round his neck. "Exactly an hour before the motorcade comes through."

"D'you think we could get a decent seat?" Rose peered over his shoulder. There was already a crowd and somewhere in that thronging, bursting mass of people was the Doctor's ninth incarnation. He'd come just to watch someone else's world ending; to see horror and fear and heartbreak in someone else's eyes for once. Schadenfreude at its most illogical. It hadn't worked, but he'd found _something_ here, done _something_ right.

"Nah," he said. "The grassy knoll's full up. Every time tourist and his grandmother's there."

Rose looked a bit disappointed. "So where are we going, then?"

"_We_," the Doctor said, endeavouring to lift her spirits, "are meeting someone."

"Who?"

He tapped the side of his nose. "That would be telling."

Rose rolled her eyes rather impressively. "Come on, you."

She stepped out of the TARDIS, looking around. "I saw a film about this, once. Isn't there supposed to be a – "

"Conspiracy theorists," the Doctor explained. He tcha'd at the thought. "They muck up historical record _spectacularly_."

"Oh, yeah?"

"There've been enough books written about today to keep the entire planet in toilet roll for a century."

"Is this like when you said that _The Lion King_ was a religious text to the Mellians?"

"Well, it is."

Rose gave him a look as if to say, 'I don't believe a word of it'. But she smiled. It was a very nice smile and the Doctor took her hand.

"Come on, then," she said. "We don't want to miss your mate, yeah?"

---

They strolled down to the plaza, joining the crowd. Every so often, the Doctor would catch sight of a black leather jacket or an incongruously shaved head and hastily duck out of sight. By the fourth time this occurred, Rose was getting exasperated.

"Where are you, anyway?" she demanded, standing on her tiptoes and craning her neck to get a better view. The Doctor grabbed her t-shirt and dragged her back down.

"Don't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Do you remember when you crossed your own timeline and created a paradox that almost destroyed the world?"

"Yeah?" Rose's irritation had faded; her voice was subdued.

"Well, it's nothing like that." The Doctor crossed his arms defensively. "I just tend to make – personal remarks."

Rose actually snorted at him. The Doctor attempted to appear dignified and offended, but she kept sniggering.

"Oh, go and get an icecream," he said, less annoyed with her than he sounded.

---

When he'd come here last, he'd wandered around aimlessly, looking for something to do, someone to talk to. He'd wanted a hand to hold.

There'd been screaming, but he was used to that. People were running, trampling each other in their rush to get away. There'd been a little boy in the middle of it all, crying for mother. He'd felt a little kinship. Everyone saw their Arcadia fall, one way or another.

---

"Chocolate!" he added to Rose's retreating back. He pulled his coat off and spread it on the ground.

"You know," said a voice behind him, "I like the nineteen-sixties. It's fun, in a cosy sort of way."

The Doctor had thought of many things he could say when they met again; some of them, it had to be acknowledged, cribbed from Disney. He couldn't recall any of them at the present moment, so instead he said, "Hello, Jack."

"I like the specs," Jack said, apropos of nothing. "Sexy, but studious. It's a good look on you." He crouched down on the coat, smiling.

"Thank you. You look much better than the last time I saw you, as well." How terribly inane. The Doctor frowned.

"Most styles are an improvement on 'dead'." Jack stared out over the heads of the crowd. "I rebuilt the Earth."

"I'm sorry?"

"That was what you wanted, right?" Jack looked at him, his eyes dark and yet softer than they'd been in the harsh, sporadic lights of the Blitz.

"That's what it's all about," the Doctor said vaguely. "Rebuilding what you can out of the debris." He wasn't sure that he'd ever built anything in his life, much less rebuilt. And after – his mind stepped cautiously around the name – the Time War, there hadn't been anything to rebuild. A broken desert, a wasteland in space; Arcadia nothing but scorched stone.

"Doctor, you're not making much sense." Jack sounded slightly amused. The Doctor patted him on the knee.

"I always make sense," he declared. "Other people, now – "

"Oh, sure," Jack agreed, the corner of his mouth curving upwards.

"Where _is_ Rose with that icecream?" the Doctor pondered aloud. "You don't think she ran into me, do you?"

---

The child's hand had been warm in his. "What's your name?"

The boy had gaped at him, choking on his tears. "Danny." Sniffle.

"Danny." The Doctor had bent down, trying to temper the wariness in the child's eyes. "Where's your mum?"

"Don't know."

"All right." He'd almost forgotten what it was like with children, then. His own had long slept in his mind. "What happened?"

"Don't know." Danny had scrubbed at his eyes with one chubby hand. Funny, how some mannerisms never seemed to change from race to race. "You've got a weird voice."

"I'm not from round here." The Doctor had found a smile somewhere; it was bright and a little bit crazy. "Let's go and find your mum!"

---

"Sorry, I got lost." Rose was holding three cones, generous heart that she had. She balanced them carefully as she walked. "It took me ages to find – _Jack_!"

The Doctor watched despondently as the icecream trickled into the grass. Oh, well. He hadn't really wanted it anyway. Rose and Jack were hugging tightly and laughing; when he looked back over at them, Rose was wiping teary eyes.

"You're coming back to the TARDIS, yeah?" she asked, still holding his arms. Jack shot the Doctor a strangely measured glance, as if he were remembering something.

"Am I?"

"If you want." The Doctor watched him curiously. "You're always welcome."

Jack nodded, apparently satisfied. "While I was on the Gamestation, I did some reading in the Torchwood Archives. Fascinating stuff, Doc. You should check it out sometime." The look he gave the Doctor this time was more than usually entertained. "But the point is – I was in Cardiff in 2006."

The Doctor frowned, beginning to cotton on. "How long for?"

"Quite a while, by all accounts." Jack's gaze dropped.

"Two years?" That was the pertinent question, wasn't it.

"Maybe." _And if it is, I don't want you to see me then_, remained unspoken. The Doctor could appreciate Jack's reticence.

"Well," he said, "I'll be more than happy to take you there."

"Thanks." Jack wasn't the type to ask for help, was he? Perhaps they'd better take a gander – but Jack was looking at him again, as if he knew what the Doctor was thinking. _Don't interfere_, Jack didn't say.

"If you need us – " the Doctor began anyway.

"I'll _find_ you." Jack's smile was out of touch with his eyes. He waved his fingers cheerfully enough, however.

"Do you have to go yet?" Rose asked hopefully. She had been subdued by the mention of her century. Jack laughed.

"For you, Rose, I have all the time in the world." He made a sweeping bow and Rose attempted an abortive curtsy in her long skirt. The Doctor reached out and caught both of them by the hand. It was comforting, even if there was no such thing as "forever".

---

He'd seen, from afar, a woman trying to run against the flow of the crowd. She was young, early twenties, and frightened. She was calling someone's name, drowned in the noise and the passion of the multitude.

He'd lifted the boy up. "That your mum?"

"Mom!" the child had shrieked in his ear. "_Mom_!"

"_Danny_!" The cry had been clearly audible this time and the woman had darted towards them. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," the boy had said, unconcerned now that all was right with the world.

The mother had been frantically grateful and even offered him money. It had been difficult enough getting away physically, but the smile in her eyes when she saw her son haunted him as he travelled from planet to planet.

Eventually, he'd gone back to Earth.

---

After that, they went back to the TARDIS.

"Do you think I'm ginger at all?" the Doctor asked wistfully. It was possible that he was still a teeny bit disappointed about that. Jack shook his head.

"Is my room here any more?"

"Up the stairs, second door to the right, up the _other_ stairs and it's the eighteenth door on your left."

"Thanks."

Once Jack and Rose had slipped off to unpack, the Doctor switched on the TARDIS monitors. He saw the motorcade as it drove through the plaza: bang, bang, bang, dead.

"You'll rebuild," he said, because humans always did.

"What?" Rose asked, clattering down the stairs.

"Oh, nothing." The Doctor flicked the screen off. He paused and said, "You lot, you're like rubber balls."

"Balls?"

"Interesting thought," Jack offered, coming down after her. He grinned at the Doctor.

"Red ones," the Doctor mused. "You know – the really bouncy ones."

"Bouncy ones," Rose said. She crossed her arms under her breasts. The Doctor suspected that she was trying not to laugh at him.

"Never mind," he decided. It was never any use arguing with humans. He reached around the console. "Where do you want to go now?"

After all, he'd spent a lot of time on Earth. Maybe some of it had rubbed off.


End file.
